


Better Off Rudyard

by gay_possum_god



Category: Wooden Overcoats (Podcast)
Genre: 80s AU, Alternate Universe - High School, Argintinian Chapman, Better Off Dead (1985) AU, F/F, F/M, French Georgie, M/M, Trans Male Character, Trans Rudyard Funn, also they're in Northern California instead of England, but also because that's where the original movie the AU is based off of takes place, georgie hates chapman at first sight, marked m for 'my god everything in this is horrible and i want to be careful', mostly cause i know nothing about england
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:06:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22979602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gay_possum_god/pseuds/gay_possum_god
Summary: Off the coast of Northern California there was an island called Piffling, and on this island was a village called Piffling Vale that was very nearly a town. In this village there is a family that was not quite like the others. The Reverend, Nigel Wavering, had decided that as part of his service to God (who may or may not exist), he would adopt the children whose parents had died tragically in a hearse accident. The children were Rudyard and Antigone Funn. Rudyard used to be enjoying his life. He isn’t anymore. Eric Chapman had moved to Piffling just before the beginning of the school year, and in just three short months it had become very clear that anything Rudyard could do, Eric could do better.
Relationships: Eric Chapman/Rudyard Funn, Georgie Crusoe/Marlene Magdelena, Rudyard Funn/Lady Templar, one-sided Eric Chapman/Georgie Crusoe, one-sided Lady Templar/Eric Chapman
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Better Off Rudyard

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off the movie _Better Off Dead_. You can watch the entire thing on youtube here: https://youtu.be/kNcvo84rCNA
> 
> Also, Trigger Warning: pretty much everything. (I'm not kidding. This is dark humor.)

Off the coast of Northern California there was an island called Piffling, and on this island was a village called Piffling Vale that was very nearly a town. In this village there is a family that was not quite like the others. The Reverend, Nigel Wavering, had decided that as part of his service to God (who may or may not exist), he would adopt the children whose parents had died tragically in a hearse accident. The children were Rudyard and Antigone Funn. Rudyard used to be enjoying his life. He isn’t anymore. Eric Chapman had moved to Piffling just before the beginning of the school year, and in just three short months it had become very clear that anything Rudyard could do, Eric could do better.

In November came dried leaves drifting gently down to the sidewalks, coastal California fog that no longer disappeared in the afternoons and tryouts for the Piffling High track team. For the tryouts, Rudyard had to wake up early in the morning on a Sunday, and this put Rudyard in a bad mood. But then again, almost everything put Rudyard in a bad mood.

Another reason Rudyard had to wake up early was that he had to wake up early every Sunday morning to race down to the garage before Marjore could get there. Marjore was the paper girl for Piffling, and she had a particular dislike for Rudyard. She was not alone in this, of course. Most of the people on Piffling Vale disliked Rudyard; he was set to inherit his parents’ funeral parlor (which nobody liked but had to use because it was the only one on the island), and on the whole he was just a terrible little man. But Marjore held a special kind of grudge, a grudge which she makes known by every Sunday morning throwing the paper as hard as she could at the Funn's garage door. By this particular Sunday, the Funn's were down to having just one of the windows on their garage left unbroken, and Rudyard was very determined to save it.

Rudyard woke up out of an instinct that could only come from having a very rude awakening at a particular time every morning at the same time. He threw on his robe and ran down the stairs. He knew that it would be close, because as he was fumbling for the garage opener, he could see Marjore making her way up the street on her bicycle. Unlike most of the newspaper deliverers on the island, Marjore was not an elementary school-aged child, but in fact a fully grown woman in her mid-forties. Nobody quite knew why it was she chose to deliver papers on the side of her jobs as the mayor's secretary and a serial killer. Most speculated that it was sheerly out of the desire for petty revenge on Rudyard.

Rudyard pressed the garage door opener button repeatedly as he saw Marjore draw closer up the street, even though he knew somewhere in his brain that pressing it more than once, didn't make it go any faster. As Marjore reached the house and took aim with her throwing arm, the garage door began to slowly lift up. Rudyard traced the newspaper's graceful arc through the air in anticipation, not knowing if it would hit until the last second. (You see, in Funn family tradition, Rudyard had been deemed a danger to himself and others in P.E. and been asked by the teacher, Mr. Aski, to stop participating for the greater good.) For the first time since Marjore had begun her route, the paper sailed under the rising door—by the margin of less than an inch—sparing any structural damage.

Rudyard was overjoyed. He let out a cackle of delight—something the Funns were known occasionally doing—and even smiled—something the Funns are almost never seen doing—before he realized that his neighbor, Piffling Mayor Desmond Desmond, could see him from where he was standing on his front lawn to avoid his work. (He is kept very busy, most of the time, you know.)

“Oh God, what is that?” Desmond cried in horror.

Rudyard stopped smiling and awkwardly raised his hand in a wordless apology before returning upstairs to simmer in self-loathing over having been caught smiling and get ready for the day. He took his biweekly shower as he always did: socks on. He got dressed looking exactly like he usually did: uncool, but like he was trying very hard. And he spoke like he usually did: to himself.

Down in the kitchen the usual daily Funn chaos was unfolding. Nigel was putting the leftover embalming fluid, a couple of illegally harvested organs that made the corpses look bloated and a pinch of the tears of small children in a pot to make breakfast, while Antigone sorted through her pile of outgoing mail with great care. While Rudyard was usually all for using every bit and leaving no waste, he decided to bypass his adoptive father’s concoction and eat cereal. He pulled the first box of Halloween themed cereal out—Antigone stocked them en mass every Halloween, and then ate them out of storage for the rest of the year—and watched as they all the flakes poured freely out the side of the box. He set the box down on the counter and picked up another one. The same happened, and again with a third. He was now returned to his usual bad temper.

"Now see here!” he shouted, “what is this?"

"It's Antigone's," Nigel replied. “She likes the prizes you can get from mailing in the cupons, and today’s mail-in day.”

“Can’t you wait until the box is empty?” Rudyard asked waving a box of Count Chocula around and scattering cereal all over the floor.

Antigone, who knew better than to argue with Rudyard when he was in a bad mood, simply continued to address the envelopes spread out on the table in front of her.

“What are you mailing in for this time?” Nigel asked, much more gently.

“A kit for making scented embalming fluid.”

“Why?” Rudyard demanded. “Nobody should be smelling dead bodies.”

Antigone continued to ignore him.

Rudyard decided just to leave without breakfast. It was probably better that way anyway; he had a nervous stomach. (Last time he had to buy the guy new shoes.)

Antigone stayed home with Nigel. She had been homeschooled since kindergarten when she had been diagnosed with a near-fatal allergy to other children. As she reached the end of high school, she had started online courses specialized in preparing her to take over her parents’ funeral home.

* * *

Across the island, Lady Templar was on the phone with Roger Noggins, one of her many high society friends.

“Of course I’m going to break up with him,” she said, taking a scowling photo of Rudyard out of the frame. “Who would give up the chance to go out with Eric Chapman. Besides,” she dropped the photo in the recycling (Templar’s don’t hurt the environment!), “he still drives me everywhere in his parents’ old hearse.”

“The one they died in?” Roger asked in horror.

“Yes.”

“Good God! Well are you breaking up with him before tryouts or afterwards?” asked Roger, who had never had experience with relationships because he had joined the grass measurement club in 6th grade and had since devoted all of his free time to it.

“After of course. You know how he gets when he’s nervous.”

“Oh, right. Last time.”

“Exactly, he had to buy the guy a new pair of shoes!” Outside Lady Templar’s window there was the sound of a mailbox being run over. “That’s him. I’ll call you back later.” Lady Templar placed the phone back on the receiver, finished putting a grinning photo of Chapman in her picture frame, and ran downstairs.

* * *

Back across the street from Reverend Wavering and the Funns, Agatha Doyle’s second exchange student was moving in. Georgie Crusoe had come to America by helicopter because she was bored with France. The fact that the exchange program gave good school credit was just an added benefit. She was just in the process of unpacking when Agatha came back knocking at her door.

“Hey, Eric,” she called down the hall, and grinned at Georgie.

Georgie was beginning to get a bad vibe.

A tall boy with a smile so large that Georgie wanted to knock his teeth out walked into the doorway.

“Eric,” Agatha introduced, “this is Georgie, she’s my new exchange student. She is from France!”

“Hello, I’m Eric.” Eric said, he held out a hand to Georgie. Georgie only nodded in reply.

“Georgie,” Agatha continued, not sensing the tension in the room, “this is Eric, he’s been with me since September. He’s from Argentina!”

Georgie continued to remain silent. 

“Well the,” Agatha chuckled, “I’ll leave you kids to it!”

“Is there anything you want to ask me?... Anything you want to know about America or Ms. Doyel?... I can help you get settled in… Or unpack?” Eventually worn down by Georgie’s unbroken Silence With Heavy Eye ContactTM Eric gave in. “Well then, I’ll be going. Enjoy yourself!”

Georgie was getting a bad feeling. And she’s great at premonitions.

**Author's Note:**

> Both Wooden Overcoats and Better Off Dead are not super popular, so I totally understand if I am the only one who falls into this weird little niche. This is really just written just for me. This will diverge from the plot of the movie more later. I probably won't update regularly, but I will definitely finish this.


End file.
